


Tentative

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, MWPP Era, Marauders' Era, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus helps Regulus with homework.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tentative

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.

“What about Alihotsy?”

“No,” Severus sniffs instantly, “That would only make it worse.”

“Oh.” Regulus frowns in disappointment, flipping the page.

Across from them, Goyle glances over—Regulus instantly shoots him a territorial glare. Goyle looks back around with a scowl of jealousy—he’s even worse in Potions than Regulus is.

Severus is _brilliant_ , and there are no words to describe how grateful Regulus is to have him helping out. He won’t exactly write out the notes, or even share his own, really, even though Regulus knows that Severus has held onto every scrap of parchment since first year. But he answers most of Regulus’ questions and corrects most of his mistakes, and this friendship has been the best thing to happen to Regulus’ grades since his fancy new self-inking quill.

Currently, Severus is lounging in a large, green armchair by the fireplace, while Regulus sits on the floor, leaning against his legs. The carpet takes care of some of the dungeon’s chill, and the warmth of the fire licks at his side. Severus’ legs are stiff and sort of bony, but Regulus finds them sort of comforting—a constant reminder that he isn’t alone in the haze that is homework. Eventually, Goyle gets up from his chair across the common room, looking sullen and somewhat confused.

His lumbering form disappears a moment later, and that leaves the two of them alone. Regulus glances awkwardly up over his shoulder; Severus doesn’t seem to notice.

Severus reads quietly. His long, dark hair is tucked behind his ears, uniform done up to perfection and posture poor and bent over with thick concentration. His lips are in a tight frown, eyes slightly thin, as though he’s reading something very displeasing. But that’s just the way he normally reads, Regulus knows. It’s vaguely endearing, in a way, because the demi-permanent sneer disappears when he looks at Regulus, and the look is almost pleasant by contrast. Regulus says with complete sincerity, “Thank you for helping me with all this. You’re really a life saver.”

Severus grunts, “No problem,” with a wary sort of look in his eyes. He isn’t used to compliments or gratitude, Regulus has discovered. That knowledge doesn’t make Regulus any less inclined to say them.

When Severus’ dark eyes slide back to his book, Regulus repeats more firmly, “No, I really mean it.” Severus looks at him blankly; Regulus’ cheeks flush slightly. He doesn’t really know what else he wants to say, but he knows he wants them to keep talking. Homework is boring. Severus is _interesting_. Regulus mumbles vaguely, “I wish... I wish there was someway I could repay you.”

“I’ve already done all your assignments,” Severus says bluntly, as though that’s that. He rarely returns any gratitude back; Regulus strongly suspects (perhaps even knows) that Severus isn’t the best with ‘friends.’

Regulus would like to think they’re friends. He shifts around, sliding the book off his lap, and places a hand on Severus’ knee while he insists, “I didn’t mean with homework. Obviously you’re too intelligent for that; I struggle to keep up with you and have nothing to offer there. I just mean... in some way. In _any_ way. Knowing you has really improved my life, and I wish I could make yours better, too.”

For a moment, it looks like Severus is blushing. Then Regulus convinces himself it must be a trick of the dim firelight, because Severus Snape doesn’t blush. He scowls, and he sneers, and sometimes he winces, but mostly he just looks at Regulus oddly, as though Regulus is some strange, new animal that Severus can’t find any books on. Regulus pays it no mind. He grew up in a family of darkness and shushed insanity, and however different Severus is, Regulus finds him _fascinating._ He’s a different creature, too—there isn’t anyone in Hogwarts at all like him. He’ll be a great wizard someday, Regulus knows, and he only hopes to be around when that happens.

For now, Severus is an outcast. He’s a true _snake_ in the shadows, and he shifts backwards into the chair when the conversation gets too personal, as though to hide inside it. Regulus draws his hand away from Severus’ knee, and he blurts quietly, “I’ll miss you when you graduate.”

Severus studies him for several long, stretching moments. Regulus doesn’t look away. For that time, he’s afraid to blink, afraid to even breathe. He knows he’s being examined, and he wants to pass.

Then Severus drawls, in a strained, hesitant sort of voice, “There isn’t enough light in here. We should... we should do this somewhere else. Next time.” There’s always a next time—it’s a precedent Regulus has been sure to set. He nods, trying to restrain his eagerness. “Perhaps... perhaps the Hog’s Head?”

The Hog’s Head is a dingy, ugly little bar on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. It’s no more lit than their common room. But Regulus’ eyes go too wide, and he nods instantly, murmuring in a breathless, ecstatic rush, “It’s a date.”


End file.
